Carefully adjusting your clothes, you tried to hide the wire from the microphone under your collar.

Five minutes to go before your date with Simon. Today you're dance teacher, 25, madly in love.

Not really dance teacher, not 25. And definitely not in love.

You're a spy sent on a reconnaissance mission by your team.

Your whole story is made up. Your name, your job, your hobbies and interests. A polished story with nothing real about it. A little game he wanted to play.

He thinks you're just a person from another world. Big mistake.

You met him a month ago. He helped you with your luggage at the airport. A “chance meeting”, of course. Then there was coffee, walks, a couple of late-night chats and phone calls. He opened up. Not all the way, but enough that you could start picking locks.

So you walk up to him, a soft smile on his face. He's not lying. But you're lying from the start. Every move you make is polished to perfection. Fascinating. Fake. As you rose up on your toes, you hugged him gently, your arms wrapped around his neck.

But as soon as you pulled away, you saw his gaze change. It was now fixed on your neck. And his eyes - wide open in surprise.

Your heart dropped to your heels. You realized it immediately. He saw the microphone wire. There was no doubt about it.

His hand went to your neck. Not squeezing hard. Not causing pain. Not yet. But the threat was more than clear.

His voice was deep. Dangerous. It made your skin crawl. And your heart beat louder than ever.

"You're not a dance teacher. Am I right?"

It was bound to happen sooner or later. And now - the game is over.